


The Touch of Your Hand

by soldmysoultolouis



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-02
Updated: 2014-02-02
Packaged: 2018-01-10 23:02:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1165624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/soldmysoultolouis/pseuds/soldmysoultolouis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry was kidnapped and brutally murdered by a crazed fan, causing Louis to slowly lose his mind. He no longer has a hand to hold or someone to kiss when he’s sad. He's left not knowing what to do. Harry watches Louis fall apart, unable to communicate with him as a ghost. Inspired by Don't Let Me Go</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Touch of Your Hand

**Author's Note:**

> soldmysoultolouis.tumblr.com

“It has been one week since international pop star, Harry Styles, went missing. Police suspect that he was kidnapped by an overenthusiastic fan, though they are not yet sure. All we know is that millions of teenage hearts are breaking over what could possibly be the end of One Direction.”

Louis fought the urge to scream as he slammed the off button and threw the remote across the room. All the news about how heartbreaking it must be for the fans was making him sick. He’d seen countless stations and newspapers cover the story and only one, maybe two, had even mentioned family and friends. Everyone else was going on about if the band would go on, or if the fans would even still want to see them.

It didn’t really seem to matter that Louis had lost the love of his life or that Anne had lost a child. Because even though they tried to tell the fans that Harry might be found, everyone knew it wasn’t true. Harry was dead by now, and if he wasn’t then he would be soon.

Louis was about to have his third mental breakdown of the day when there was a knock at the door. He debated answering it for a couple minutes before deciding that it didn’t really matter either way. He might as well answer in case it was someone important. Sighing, he picked himself up and dragged himself to the door.

“Hey Lou,” Liam said as the door opened.

Louis was half glad and half exasperated to see Liam in the doorway. A little part of him, however irrational it may’ve been, had hoped that it was Harry. He knew that it wouldn’t be, but he just couldn’t help thinking it might be. The thing was, Louis was positive that Harry was dead. He’d known it within minutes of Harry dying, feeling it in his soul. His eyes had been closed in a fitful sleep, worry filling him even in his dreams, when suddenly there was an aching in his chest and he was wide awake feeling his heart ripping to shreds. When the pain numbed he knew that Harry was gone; something so soul wrenching can’t just happen out of nowhere.

He didn’t really know what to do with the information because he couldn’t exactly tell anybody. No one would believe that he just knew; besides almost nobody knew about his and Harry’s relationship anyway. It was a bit of closure for him though, with the body still being missing. He wondered if Harry’s mother had felt his death too, or if it had just been him.

“Hi Liam. What’re you doing here?” Louis mumbled halfheartedly. He was finding it difficult just to process thoughts, let alone turn them into words.

Liam held up a bag containing wine bottles, “I thought we could drink a little and I could offer a shoulder to cry on, maybe we could have a cuddle.”

In the corner Harry watched the exchange between the two. He’d been trying to get Louis’ attention all day, but it seemed that no one could see or hear him. Harry hadn’t realized that he was dead until he’d heard about the kidnapping on the news. He couldn’t remember any of it, for which he was grateful; his death had probably been pretty gruesome.

He watched as Louis cried, curling into Liam and burying his head into Liam’s shoulder, who proceeded to stroke his hair and back. Liam didn’t say anything about it being okay, for which Louis and Harry were grateful. Both knew that Louis would probably never be okay again. Harry didn’t know what to do to make his presence known to them but he knew he had to. He couldn’t think of any other reason that he would still be around. Unless of course, he was just waiting for Louis to join him. He didn’t know how long that would take, but Harry hoped it wouldn’t be for at least another fifty years. He wondered if people stayed on earth often, just waiting for their soul mates to join them.

It was two days later when they found a body. It was mangled and grotesque, so much so that Harry couldn’t stomach it, even as a ghost. It brought memories flooding back into his head and he was thankful that Louis hadn’t been around to see what happened to him. Louis found bile rising in his throat as they showed the pictures on TV. It felt wrong to see something so personal on the television, surely those pictures weren’t meant to be released. Even in death the media was still exploiting Harry Styles and that was even more sickening than the pictures. Harry watched helplessly as Louis threw up into the toilet, tears streaming down his face. He was all alone; the other boys were attending a press conference that Louis had refused to attend. It was pretty much universally accepted that he was no longer in the band, even though no one had made the statement out loud. He hadn’t left his apartment in two weeks and it didn’t look like he was going to anytime soon. Niall had brought over groceries, Liam had brought over movies, and Zayn had brought himself. But Louis didn’t really want any of it; he was content with rotting away in the comfort of his empty bed.

It was strange for Louis to sleep alone. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d gone more than two nights without Harry. His bed was small for the two of them, it was only meant for one person, but it felt so large and empty with only him. Louis was used to the constant touch of Harry, cuddling in the night, holding hands around the flat, kisses with morning breath, even just how they went out of their way to brush shoulders when they passed each other. He felt so empty without the constant reminder that Harry was here, that everything was ok. Because he wasn’t and it wasn’t.

Harry didn’t know what to do with his days and was even more perplexed about what to do with his nights. He was unable to sleep in this form and that left him to do nothing but watch Louis. Normally he wouldn’t object but he was stuck watching Louis cry and break down when he was awake and toss and turn when he was sleeping. Several times in the night he would hear his name whimpered softly. There were a couple nights that Louis had reoccurring nightmare where he watched Harry getting tortured and dying. He told the other boys about the dream on the phone, shaking and trying to hold back tears. They told him it wasn’t real, but Louis couldn’t help but feel it was part of what happened. After all, he had sensed Harry’s death so why wouldn’t he be able to channel the occurrence as well?

Harry could only hope that Louis wasn’t dreaming the real thing, because no one’s imagination could conjure up something that bad. It would only serve Louis worse if he knew what happened.

As time went on Harry watched as Louis became angry, almost psychotic. He would scream at the top of his lungs about finding the person who did this and that they would be sorry when he did. He’d yell at the top of his lungs that Harry’s death would look like child’s play once Louis got his revenge. And afterwards he would crumple the floor, unable to move for hours, staring hopelessly into space. Harry had watched as Louis threw a picture of them across the room and the glass shattered into a million pieces. That had happened days ago, but the glass still littered the floor. Louis had cut himself on the glass several times but he wouldn’t clean it up if it meant he might have to see the picture again.

How could he look at the two of them smiling at each other like they had all the time in the world? They’d been so happy it was painful. Louis couldn’t remember a time that he’d been truly sad since he met Harry. Harry had always been there, holding his hand and telling him it was going to be alright. This time he couldn’t help but think it wouldn’t be.

The pain that stabbed at Harry’s heart was almost unbearable when he saw Louis like this. Louis had always been so happy and carefree when Harry was alive. He’d had a few bad moments, but nothing he couldn’t overcome. No one had ever seen him like this before and it was too much for Harry to bear. He wanted to scream at Lou to stop being sad, that it was okay, Harry was here. He wanted to take his hand and hold him close, smothering every inch of his body until Louis felt ok, but he couldn’t and that was perhaps even more frustrating.

The day after pictures of Harry’s body were released, Simon came knocking Louis’ door. He hadn’t been picking up any phone calls and the only contact he’d had with the world was when the three boys came over.

“Are you going to be at the funeral?” Simon asked, trying not to set Louis off in any way. He was quite unpredictable in his current state.

Louis simply shook his head. The funeral would be all over the news anyway, he could watch it anytime he liked; not that he would. Louis knew that he would never recover if he saw Harry’s body being lowered into the cold unforgiving ground. It would bring too much finality; it would really be the end. Louis would never be able to touch him again, never be able to hold his hand. Not to mention, Harry deserved more than to be thrown into the ground as a mangled corpse that makes a good news story.

“You’ll have to make an appearance Louis,” Simon sighed, “whether you want to or not. If anything, you’ll have to say goodbye to the fans if you decide not to stay in the band.”

Louis stared straight ahead not wanting to speak even though he knew he had to. He knew that he couldn’t sit around and mope forever, but that seemed like the only sensible option.

“I’ll say goodbye,” Louis stated before repeating himself, “I’ll say goodbye, but after that I’m gone. No more appearances, nothing.”

Simon gave a resigned humph. He had been hoping that Louis would at least make a couple more appearances, but there was no way he could force him. Their contract had broken when Harry died.

When Louis left with Simon Harry tried to follow him to the studio, but found he couldn’t leave the apartment. When he was living he’d heard about ghosts only being able to stay in one place but he’d never given it much thought. He guessed it made sense. After all, their flat had been their favorite place to be when he was alive. It was the only place where he and Louis could truly be themselves without any worry of someone ratting them out.

Once Louis left the apartment, the hole in his heart became ten times bigger. He wasn’t quite sure why, but it took everything he had not to burst into ugly sobs. As it was, he couldn’t help but let a few tears stream down his cheeks. He had no idea that the emptiness was caused by Harry’s complete absence. Even just his soul, despite not being able to be seen or heard, healed Louis a little bit, made him feel a bit more whole.

When he entered the studio he was rushed over to the makeup artists in the regular bustle of the industry. Time didn’t move slower even though Louis could’ve sworn it’d been years since Harry died, when in fact it had only been several weeks. Though Louis had longed for someone’s touch, the hands brushing across his face were quick and rough, focused on getting the job done not being gentle. It felt odd to be getting his makeup done like it was another normal day and nothing had happened. It felt even odder to be doing an interview without Harry to make silly faces at and make stupid jokes with. The other three were there, but it would never be the same. They had lost someone too, but none of them could understand how deeply it affected Louis.

“Ready?” Zayn asked gently. He knew Louis wasn’t excited to announce his disappearance. If Louis could have it his way, he would disappear without a word. But he knew he owed the fans a goodbye. Zayn, Liam, and Niall would probably make several appearances after this one, but if Louis could help it this would be his last one. There would be no more paps, no more interviews, or concerts, or singing. Soon it would all be over.

The interview went by in a blur with Louis barely saying anything. Even all the makeup he’d gotten couldn’t hide the fact that he’d been crying for days on end. His eyes were puffy and red, sore from the combination of too many waterworks and sleepless nights. He wasn’t even sure if he could let out tears anymore.

“So Louis,” the interviewer asked right before the end, “how’ve you been taking Harry’s death?”

His jaw clenched and his muscles flexed at the question, unable to believe the nerve of this interviewer. It’d only been three weeks and she was fucking asking the most insensitive question he could think of.

“I’ve been taking it shit. I fucking loved Harry more than you can imagine and everyone just acts like his death means nothing. I don’t think you understand that he was my world,” Louis said, his voice breaking with pain, “I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to parade around for the cameras. I want to mourn the boy I loved respectably and the way he deserves. Please think about what you’re saying before you say it, because obviously I’m doing horribly. You can tell just by looking at me. And you just made me feel a million times worse.”

The interviewer stared dumbstruck for a moment before attempting to move on, but Louis cut her off.

“I just want to say to all of the fans how much Harry and I both loved you, along with the rest of the band. You really were the greatest and I hope you continue to enjoy our music, but this is goodbye. You won’t be seeing me again.”

The interview wasn’t over, but Louis couldn’t be there any longer. He walked off the set letting everyone’s words fall deaf on his ears. He had a grave to visit.

He stopped at the apartment, looking around at the home he and Harry had built. It had been torn down ruthlessly even though it was still standing.

He walked over the drawer by his bedside table, pulling a key out of his pocket and opening it. Carefully he pulled out the gun from its place along with the bullets that went with it. He walked back towards the apartment door before his shoe crunched down on the broken glass he had yet to clean up. Leaning down he picked up the picture, a smile crossing his face.

“I’ll be home soon love,” he whispered, touching his lips to the picture of Harry.

When he reached the cemetery he almost turned back. It had a dark gloomy aura over it and clouds were beginning to loom overhead in threat of raining. He walked to the back, where the newer graves were and saw Harry’s hovering over the rest. He thought it unfair that money gets you a bigger gravestone, when really all dead people deserve the same respect. At the same time, he was glad Harry’s grave was special, after all Harry himself had been special.

He glanced down at the wilting flowers before his eyes went to the inscription.

**Harry Styles (1/2/94 – 5/7/13)**

**Caring son, friend, and lover**

**He will be greatly missed.**

That tipped Louis over the edge. Never in his wildest dreams would he have thought they would put lover on the gravestone; that was sure to raise too many questions. He’d come here to die but now he was really sure he had to join Harry. Harry his life, his love, his everything was waiting for him and Louis had kept him long enough.

He pulled out the gun he’d obtained a while ago, unsure of when he’d want to do it but always knowing he would in the end. Without hesitation Louis put the gun to the roof of his mouth and pulled the trigger. For a moment everything went black before he saw his body lying on the ground, blood pooling from his head. He wasn’t sure exactly what was happening, or where Harry was but something was leading him back to the apartment. Back home.

He felt as if an invisible string was pulling him until finally he was at the flat and he saw Harry with his arms open, waiting for him. Louis ran into him, embracing with every ounce of his existence.

“You didn’t have to do that love,” Harry whispered into his ear.

“I was just so tired of feeling alone Haz, I missed you so much.”

“I was here the whole time,” Harry responded, pulling away from the hug and holding out his hand. Louis gratefully took it no longer missing the familiar touch and a white light became visible to both of them.

“You ready?”

“I’m ready for anything as long as I’m with you.”

They walked into the light hand in hand. In the background the TV was playing, but neither paid it any attention. They couldn’t focus on anything other than their hand in the others’. It was seconds before they were gone from this world and on to a better place.

**Louis Tomlinson (24/12/91 – 19/7/13)**

**Caring son, friend, and lover**

**He will be greatly missed.**


End file.
